“But we’ve heard stories about these wolves. We’ve heard they don’t always kill.”
I resisted the urge to tell her how many people used to fill this house. “Where did you hear that?”
“Others in town, who have heard and seen things at night. People who had loved ones disappear, and who saw the wolves take them. And later saw them again, briefly, before they disappeared once more. The wolves seem to – keep them.”
I leaned closer. “What do you mean, ‘keep them’?”
“I mean –.” She swallowed. Fidgeted with the lace collar of her dress. “– they use them. For sport. One of our old neighbors – before they left the province – they saw their son, a year after he had been taken. He was being thrown across the grass and beaten by a group of those wolves. Right in front of their home. The wolves returned, to show them they still had their son. He was cut and scarred all over. They had been torturing him for a year. Then they vanished with him once more. No one ever saw him again. The parents left immediately after that, and we haven’t seen them since. They warned us that these creatures exist, that they’re in the village, but – it all seemed so bizarre. We just never believed that –.” She bit her lip. “Couldn’t they have – kept Claudette? For sport?”
I maintained my dark frown. Madame Strineau’s fragile voice held hope, while recognizing how distasteful the thought was. “It’s possible,” I lied again. I had never heard of such a thing, but perhaps the wolves in DeSarte acted differently than the wolves here.
Or I still had a great deal to learn about the Lycanthru.
“Can you –?” Madame Strineau almost leaped forward from the rocking chair. “Would you – can you search for her?”
I felt like someone had sucked the life from me, leaving me an empty skeleton. She wanted me to promise I would return her daughter to her. The odds of finding Claudette now were a thousand to one. Finding her alive, in any form, was far less likely. How could I explain that to this woman, holding onto the slenderest thread of hope that Claudette had survived?
I met her tremulous gaze. “– Yes,” I said. “But you need to understand that – I might not find anything. Or that you won’t like what I do find.”
She sat at the edge of the chair, eyes wide and eager. She bit her lip and nodded quietly to Monsieur Strineau.
“We understand,” he agreed.
I rose. “I’ll be back in an hour. Wait here.”
They stood as I marched past them to the door. “Where are you going?” Madame Strineau asked.
“To get ready,” I said, glancing down at my constricting dress. “I don’t hunt well in this.”
“We’ll wait,” she said in a half-cry, still sounding more optimistic than she should. But why crush her small hopes until I had proof?
Proof that her daughter was already dead.
I pushed the door open and strode outside, hating myself. It would be better to make them see reason now, to assure them the Lycanthru wouldn’t keep their young daughter alive this long.
Yet how could I be certain? Perhaps these Lycanthru worked differently than the ones I faced.
Either way, they had to be stopped. They had to be hunted down and destroyed. Before they took any more children.
Crimson turned toward me, looking almost expectant. My stillness seemed to alert him to danger. Danger we were about to face once more.
I climbed up on the stirrup, throwing my belly onto the saddle, then worked myself into a sitting position, stuffing the excess folds of my gown beneath me to keep them out of my face. I kicked at Crimson’s flanks and rode off to Father Vestille’s house.
We rode through the forest – the forest that would have been filled with Lycanthru wolves this time of night, only a few months ago. The same type of forest that the wolves must roam through in DeSarte. My heart pounded with the rhythm of Crimson’s hooves as we galloped toward Father Vestille’s hovel. Toward the life I thought I had left behind.
In a matter of minutes, we arrived and trotted to the rear of the house. There was no candlelight coming from within. Father Vestille must have still been visiting with the Denues. I slid off Crimson’s back and kicked away the straw covering the door to the secret longhouse. I lifted the door and descended the stairs quickly, leaving Crimson above ground.
I lit a candle and found my trousers, tunic and hooded cloak laid neatly on the bed, my polished boots set on the floor beneath them. Did Father Vestille expect me to fight again? No, he must have simply wanted to clean my dirty clothes for me, like he did with the dress. I swallowed. I had no time to even let him know I was leaving. If I told him, he might ask me to reconsider. But he would also know I needed to help the Strineaus, even if it was only to find their daughter’s mangled corpse. To put their fears to rest once and for all.
I grabbed the red hooded cloak and held it to my chest, closing my eyes.
I didn’t want to do this again. But the wolves were still out there. And what if Madame Strineau was right? What if Claudette was truly still alive? If I didn’t search for her and fight the Lycanthru, who would? Who else even could?
Anyone. Anyone could do what I did. I simply discovered their secret weakness of silver, with Pierre’s help. With that same knowledge, anyone could kill these beasts if they chose to.
Which was why no one else could fight them. Because no one else had chosen it.
No one except me.
I shed Madame Leóne’s voluminous dress and laid it on the bed, taking up the tunic and baggy trousers to pull them on. To become the strange warrior again, rushing into battle with more of those monsters. I slid on my boots, then stood and secured my scarlet hood, spreading out the cloak behind me. I tugged a glove on and flicked the blade out of its top pocket, testing it, then slid it back into place. I loaded Pierre’s repeating crossbow with ten bolts and snatched the pouch of about thirty additional bolts, to secure to Crimson’s saddle.
More important than comforting the Strineaus with the truth – whatever it might be – I had to get rid of the remaining Lycanthru.
Once and for all.
Conversations halted as I pushed through the double oak doors of La Maison de Touraine and swept into the tavern. One man sputtered his drink on the table. Others choked on their words or changed their laughter to abrupt frowns. I recognized some of the same men who had attended the royal ball where the wolves attacked. I had saved their lives, but they now looked at me like I was the Devil. Others sat in the same seats they had occupied last night.
When I killed Simonet.
His appearance at the window of the Leónes’ house remained a mystery. One that I would solve after I searched for Claudette.
Since I couldn’t speak with Father Vestille before leaving, I decided to ride into town to visit La Maison. I was not about to enter the Denues’ home and disturb them in their grief, just to obtain Father Vestille’s blessing for my new mission. And returning to the Leónes’ house to talk to Pierre was out of the question. Besides, I needed advice from someone a little more experienced.
The crowd was thinner than usual, about half its usual size. Some of the usual tavern customers remained at the Leónes’ party.
I held the men’s fearful stares for a moment, then strode slowly to the bar counter. Touraine stopped talking with a couple of patrons who nearly jumped off their barstools. They skulked away to find a table, staring at me over their shoulders. I slid onto a stool to take their place.
Touraine stared at my outfit, eyes wide. “Helena? I thought you’d be retiring by now. Is – everything all right?”
“In La Rue Sauvage, yes,” I said. “What can you tell me about DeSarte?”
He froze. “… Why?”
“I’m headed there.”
His face paled like death. He turned and started busying himself, arranging mugs on the shelves. “Don’t,” he said. “No matter what you hear, stay away from that place. There’s no reason for you to go.”
The nerves in my neck twinged. “A y
oung girl is missing,” I said. “Her parents asked me to help.”
“And you think the wolves took her? And kept her alive?”
“I’m not sure what to think. What have you heard?”
Touraine placed his hands on the counter. His whole body seemed to sigh in surrender. “I’ve heard it’s a place to avoid at night. And on most days. The terrain is tricky there. The entire province is at a higher elevation, so it catches a lot of rain and creates mud pools and sinkholes, and some gnarled tree roots where heavy rains have washed mud away.”
“Are the Lycanthru there?” I pressed.
He faced me, lowering his head and his voice. “A lot of people talk to me about the wolves since you started attacking them. Especially after the royal ball. There are rumors of the wolves being in Burgundy, Dijon, and other provinces close by. But everyone agrees. They’re definitely in DeSarte. And they say you should stay away.”
“So they all avoid it.”
“Of course, but that’s not what I meant.” He leaned closer. “They all say you should avoid it.”
A chill ran through me. I tried to hide it. “Why?”
”They know you fought the wolves. They know you won. But they don’t want to see anything happen to you. Neither do I. They all say the same thing: ‘Tell that brave young girl to stay away from DeSarte. Once she goes in, she’ll never come back out.’”
I noticed a few of the other men, studying me from their tables. Some murmuring to their neighbors, some simply staring straight at me. Perhaps a few of the men who asked Touraine to warn me about DeSarte, thankful for how I saved them. Now anxiously wondering – as I was – if this nightmare was starting up all over again.
“Thank you for the information,” I said, rising from the stool and striding toward the door.
“Helena,” Touraine called.
I turned back.
“Watch yourself,” he warned, in the most serious tone I ever heard.
“I will,” I said, feeling uneasy.
“Find that girl, if you can. Then get out,” Touraine said. “If you can’t find her – just get yourself out.”
I swallowed. Nodded. Then walked out the oak doors, wondering if I would ever walk through them again.
I returned to my parents’ house, where the Strineaus sat atop their carriage, waiting. Their eyes widened at the sight of me, as Madame Strineau stifled a gasp. I raised my crossbow, sliding the catch closed over the bolts I had loaded, my cloak wafting behind me.
“I’m ready,” I said.
12.
The journey to DeSarte only took a few hours, though I wished Monsieur Strineau would push his horses a little faster. He seemed to be driving them hard, harder than I expected, but I still had to hold Crimson back from charging ahead on the moonlit path. We finally slowed as I realized that both Crimson and I were too eager to rush into battle with the Lycanthru once more. As frightened as I was, this somehow felt right. To do something I could do well, fighting an enemy I knew how to conquer.
Much easier than trying to mingle at a party in a fancy dress at the Leóne’s. Or trying to figure out how I could have seen Simonet there. I hoped that his appearance and the missing girl were related, so that I could find all my answers in DeSarte.
I tugged on the reins, slowing to a trot as we let the Strineaus’ carriage pull ahead. The path was straight enough to follow, but I knew it was more polite to led them lead me to their village. Especially since I would have to follow them to their house.
Monsieur Strineau slowed the carriage to keep alongside me as we continued. His wife leaned toward me. “Do you think you’ll be able to find Claudette?” she asked.
I fixed my gaze on the path. “I’ll do what I can. There’s no way to know until we look around.”
“Is it true that – you had a younger sister? Who was taken by the wolves?”
I flinched, not wanting to discuss Suzette. Or anything else the Lycanthru did to me and the people of La Rue Sauvage. “Yes,” I said. “I did.”
“Can I ask, what happened to her?”
“They killed her,” I said, sounding harsher than I meant to. “Like they alw–.” I broke off as I met her horrified eyes. “– Like they often do.”
She tightened her lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Not necessary. Let’s focus on finding your daughter,” I said.
I kicked at Crimson’s flanks and urged him forward again to lead the coach, keeping my face out of their sight.
A couple of hours later, we entered DeSarte.
It was everything Touraine had described. Dark and muddy, with misshapen hills and valleys that Crimson’s hooves slid across. He got stuck a few times, even as we stayed on the path where the gravel provided better traction. Crags and gnarled tree roots were exposed in various places, like giant claws preparing to grab us. I sensed evil and dread, as though the province itself was alive and working to ensnare us. Even as the dawn approached, the landscape gave the unsettling appearance of a world ruled by giant monsters.
We soon arrived at the Strineaus’ cottage. It looked a lot like my parents’ house, but with more of a square foundation and a hen house set beside it. The chickens clucked sharply from inside as we approached, as if sounding a warning. Giving me the impression that they had suffered nightly attacks before.
“Here we are,” Monsieur Strineau said in a dull tone. He climbed down from the coach with equal disinterest and walked around it to help his wife down. “Come inside and have something to eat. Then we can all rest.”
The rooms within also reminded me my parents’ home. A large front room for sitting and receiving guests or working at a spinning wheel, the kitchen’s wash basin and table visible beyond it. Madame Strineau removed her riding cloak and hung it on a hook, then went straight to the kitchen to find something to serve us. I strode farther into the front room, noting the tiny doll set in a toy bassinet, next to a rocking chair like my mother’s.
Monsieur Strineau stepped forward slowly, as if he feared to interrupt the dreary silence. “I made that bassinet for her birthday, to keep her doll in,” he said. “Just last month. She – She loved it so much.” He choked off the end of his sentence, then bit his fist, regaining his selfcontrol. “Forgive me. I can’t understand how this happened. It’s so –.” He strode a step closer, leaning toward me. “Is there really a chance?” he asked. “Any chance at all?”
I stared back at him, knowing he needed the truth. Wishing I even knew what it was. “I don’t know,” I said.
He held me a gaze for a moment more, then straightened. “That’s fair enough.”
His eyes fell on a picture sketch, laying on the end table beside the rocking chair. I stepped to it and picked it up. It showed the Strineaus, looking serious and dignified, although Madame Strineau seemed to have trouble maintaining the stiff posture. On her lap sat a small blonde girl in a plain dress with puffed shoulders and lace ties, smiling as if she had just been born that morning. I couldn’t help thinking of Suzette, how much life she had. How much boundless energy and joy.
“We have some bread, and some cured meat,” Monsieur Strineau said. “We’ll eat, and I’ll show you to your room.”
We ate a while in silence, then Monsieur Strineau led me to a rear bedroom, like the one I grew up in.
“We’ll all need some rest,” he said, his voice hollow. “I understood it’s best to – to hunt these creatures at night, yes?”
I nodded.
“Then we’ll start tonight. Sleep well. And – thank you for coming. And for telling me the truth.”
“You’re welcome, Monsieur Strineau.”
“Good night,” he said.
“Good night.”
He closed the door. They gave me food, a place to sleep, and a difficult task to complete. As if I were part of their family.
Or the best hope of finding their daughter.
I latched the door and took off my cloak, then removed my boots and trousers and crawled beneath the warm cover
s of my temporary bed.
I instantly felt guilty. Yet I pulled the blankets up around my neck, enjoying the comfort. Not only the luxurious bed, but the feeling of safety and peace, something I had not felt since –
- since Papa was alive.
Meanwhile, Claudette might be out there somewhere. And if so, she would be freezing in the night air. Or terrified at the sight of her captors’ claws and fangs.
I wanted to rush out of the house that moment and search until I found her. But Monsieur Strineau was right. We all needed rest. We would have an easier time searching tonight, when our minds were clear.
I shut my eyes, hugging the blanket up around my neck.
If Claudette Strineau was alive, I would find her. I didn’t know how, but I would find her.
I woke, feeling groggy. Stiff.
I couldn’t move.
I blinked myself awake. The room looked hazy and
distorted. The room was empty, all the furniture gone. I tried to move my arms again, but they were pinned to my sides. I strained to look down at myself, finding it far too difficult to move my neck.
I was wrapped in bandages from head to toe. Thick ropes extended down from my feet to a large metal hook that protruded from the floor.
No, it was the ceiling. I was hanging upside down from a hook!
I twisted, feeling my suspended body swing. I sensed movement nearby.
“Hello, sweet child,” the syrupy voice said. It sounded familiar. I turned, seeing a large pair of furry auburn legs.
The hind legs of a large wolf.
It stood before me. I angled my chin to my chest, finding its upside-down face grinning.
“So pleased to meet you,” it growled.
I started to answer, but heard my voice muffled. I was gagged.
The wolf crouched before me. It cradled my head in its paws. “No, my pet. Don’t try to speak. Just listen.”
I tried to twist away. Couldn’t.
“You’re searching for the missing girl. Claudette. Aren’t you, my sweet?”
I struggled, barely able to move my arms or legs.
“We have her,” it said. “If you come for her, we’ll take you, too. And we’ll do to you everything we’re now doing to her.”
Red Rider Revolution Page 9